


The Science of Gift Giving

by whichstiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Gift Fic, Gift Giving, Libraries, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 10:45:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichstiel/pseuds/whichstiel
Summary: Cas tries to figure out the proper way to reciprocate Dean's gift of the mix tape.





	The Science of Gift Giving

It had been months since Dean tossed Castiel a mix tape. He’d handed it off to Castiel with averted eyes, a strange flush coloring his skin. “Made this for you,” he had said. Castiel took it from him curiously, promised to listen to it on his upcoming drive in his continued search for Kelly, and that was that.

It had been slightly less time than that since Dean had told him tersely that the tape was a gift, and meant to be retained indefinitely.

And, of course, Castiel had been dead for quite a lot of the elapsed time since then. Still, it bothered him that he had not yet reciprocated the gift giving.

At first it hadn’t occurred to him that reciprocal gift giving was something that ought to happen. It seemed apparent that Dean had some free time and had chosen to spend it creating a musical compilation for Castiel. And Castiel had listened to it. When he needed respite, he’d parked, closed his eyes, and let himself drift along the melodies on the cassette. He’d climbed up to the stars with the crescendos and fallen down into the thick earth when the songs fell low. Castiel kept the cassette in his breast pocket and when he’d fought back to life and retrieved his coat from Dean, the cassette had still been there. Waiting.

* * *

When hunts were slow and the itch for solitude began to feel like an entire ant colony under his skin, Castiel liked to go to the nearby public library. The library was an institution that he at first avoided, understanding it to be a warehouse of human fiction and a location for passionate assignations in the stacks. At least, that was the knowledge passed along to him from Metatron, and the hundreds of library romances Metatron had devoured.

However Metatron, who had claimed to deliver to Castiel all human knowledge, had missed a considerable amount of it. Namely, Metatron had apparently eschewed nearly everything except for fiction and biographies. When Castiel had realized that there were shelves and shelves of books he’d never read – or second-hand read before – he became addicted to the nonfiction section of the public library. Reading about how humans interpreted the world – sometimes inventively, sometimes laughably – had become both a fascinating diversion and a welcome retreat. (The physics textbooks were a delight when he needed a little light reading in the quiet morning hours.)

One comfortable afternoon he sat ensconced in a study carrel near the 300’s with a book cracked open before him: The science of gift giving. Castiel had pulled the book from the shelf, his heart rate speeding up a little. He appreciated a good scientific tome; they tended to be written in a slightly more straightforward manner. He looked forward to at last learning how gift giving worked. Castiel patted the cassette tape through his coat and began to read.

When Castiel finished the book he sat back in the chair, frowning at the white tiled ceiling. If anything, now he felt more confused than ever. Still, he resolved to try to apply some of the outlined lessons from the book to at last return the gesture to Dean.

 **Tip One: Give something they can use**

Castiel arrived back at the bunker to a smoky hallway, the fire detectors in the bunker honking irritably, lights flashing. Castiel squinted among the chaos, then descended the stairs, his target acquired. Dean stood in the center of it, talking to Jack with exasperation painted across his features. He looked up when Castiel approached.

“Hey Cas,” he said with an expansive eyeroll towards the repentant young man leaning against the map table. “Just teaching Jack here how to cook is all.”

“Ah, and how is it going?”

Dean glanced around the smoky room, grimaced, and shot Castiel a thumbs up. “Awesome. What’s in the bag, man?”

Castiel shifted the large grocery bag he held awkwardly in his arms. “Um, I’d noticed you were low on shampoo, so I purchased some for you. I also have,” he peered into the bag as though he could have possibly forgotten which items he’d agonized over in the store, “beer, some magazines, a jar of peanut butter, an apple pie, and five bags of flavored beef jerky.”

Dean glanced at him then, an odd half smile lighting his face. “You planning a wild night there, Cas?”

Castiel shook his head and thrust it at Dean mumbling, “I thought you might need it, is all.”

Dean accepted the bag with a head tilt and a short laugh. “Uh, thanks, man.” He turned his attention back to Jack. “Tip nine,” he said sternly, “always use an oven mitt. You shouldn’t rely on your magic heaven powers to heal you every time.”

Castiel retreated from the smoky din to the quiet of his own bedroom and considered his next move.

**Tip Two: Give the gift of time**

The book had advised that the gift of time was often the most precious. So when Dean announced that he was heading out to the garage, Castiel had offered to help. Dean froze at his offer, turning slowly towards Castiel, his eyes comically wide. “Dude, you serious? You’re always complaining about cars.”

Castiel scowled. “Just because I find human technology frustrating does not mean I’m unwilling to learn.” He fought to clear his features. “Please, I would like to help.”

Dean chuckled and threw an inscrutable look to Sam, who raised his eyebrows and looked away from the two of them with a quick shake of his head. Dean shrugged. “Alright, let’s head out there. But you better ditch the jacket. And wear one of my shirts.”

Castiel followed him down the hallway, plucking at his suit jacket a little nervously. “I can use my grace to clean my clothing, Dean.”

In front of him, Dean huffed a laugh. “Just…humor me, okay?” He led the way into his room and rooted around in the dresser until he pulled out a black Metallica shirt. He tossed it in the air and Castiel caught it. The old fabric felt soft against his skin and he smiled fondly down at it.

“Thank you, Dean.” He carefully laid the shirt on the bed and sloughed off his suit jacket. When he set his hands to his tie, slipping loose the knot and pulling it off to set on the bed, Dean cleared his throat aggressively.

“I’ll, uh…” Castiel watched Dean curiously as he stared at the floor, ears turning bright red. “I’ll meet you in there, okay?”

Before Castiel could respond, Dean had slipped past him and out into the hallway. Castiel shrugged and finished changing into Dean’s t-shirt, smoothing it over his hips. It felt odd to be so bare, but he had to admit he liked the way the short sleeves circled his upper arms snugly. It really was a good fabric to wear into battle, stretching easily with his body. He could appreciate why this was the Winchesters’ preferred under layer.

Castiel spent the day working on the Impala alongside Dean. In the end, he decided it didn’t count as a gift since it had seemed to benefit himself just as much as it had benefitted Dean.

**Tip Three: Give an adventure**

Dean had, in Castiel’s opinion, quite enough of an adventurous life as it was. So when considering the next bit of advice from the book, he decided to give Dean an experience. An experience was close enough to an adventure, since the type of “adventure” the book outlined included such harrowing pursuits as picnics in parks and eating out at a new restaurant.

He caught Dean on his own one evening. Sam had taken Jack to an event called “Cosmic bowling” and Dean had managed to talk Sam out of making him go so he could look online for their next case. When Castiel found Dean, he had his feet up on the library table, the high pitched moans of cartoon porn emanating from his laptop.

“Hello, Dean,” he said and Dean jumped, the laptop clattering off his knees and onto the wooden tabletop.

“Shit, Cas. Warn a guy.” Dean quickly closed the laptop and looked up with a guilty expression. “What’s up?”

Castiel pulled out a chair from next to Dean and said, “Last week you were telling Jack about our first meeting on earth. And we spoke of the true voice of angels, and angel radio.”

Dean looked wary. “Yeah.”

“Well, I know your body isn’t tuned to hear the true voice of angels, but I think I’ve been able to modulate it - filter it - to better enable you to hear it. Would you like to hear angel radio?”

Dean just stared at him, jaw dropping open slightly. Finally, he said, “Where’s this coming from?”

Castiel shrugged, the words to explain the overwhelming need he had to give Dean a gift stoppered up inside of him. “I thought you might enjoy it,” he said simply.

Dean stared at him, brows raised in question. But he nodded finally. “Yeah, Cas. Can’t say I haven’t wondered.”

“Settle back in your chair,” Castiel said as he reached out two fingers towards Dean’s temple. “You may feel a little dizzy.”

Dean settled his shoulders against the chair back, setting his feet on the floor, and lacing his fingers in his lap. Castiel touched two fingers to Dean’s temple, closed his eyes, and let the connection flow.

During crises, angel radio was often discordant with jarring chords and shouts jamming his ears. On good days, settled days, the chorus was resplendent. Castiel smiled to watch the look of bliss wash across Dean’s face as he heard at last the symphony that exceeded any human orchestra.

When Castiel had determined that Dean’s perception couldn’t handle much more exposure, he removed his fingers. Dean grabbed his hand as Castiel pulled away. They sat in silence for several minutes, Dean gripping his hand and staring silently at Castiel in awe.

This too, as it turned out, became a gift for Castiel as well.

**Tip Four: Give a personal keepsake**

After a night of drinking after his return, Castiel had taken a selfie with Dean and Sam. He printed it at a local drug store kiosk, then placed it in a frame purchased from the same drug store.

Castiel gave it to Dean who was so pleased with it, that he suggested he print one for Sam as well. Of course, Castiel did as he asked. Sam was just as pleased with his copy.

**Tip Five: Give gifts of good quality**

Castiel disappeared from the bunker for a week. He expected little resistance and had been surprised when Dean followed him out to the garage prior to his departure, and pressed him to be safe, watch his fuel levels, and leave his phone’s GPS activated.

Castiel had accepted these terms, accepted the friendly clap on the shoulder, and driven away.

Once he returned he immediately found Dean. This time he had wrapped the gift. He had noticed that the proper wrapping often seemed to be an important signifier of a gift and had purchased a simple hunter green paper from a drug store on the way back.

Dean raised his brows and ripped at the paper, balling it up and dropping it to the kitchen counter. He soon held the gift in his hand. It was a long, slim blade with a simple wrapped leather hilt and a tiny wyrm worked between that and the blade. “Cas.” Dean couldn’t seem to find any other words and he flipped the blade in his hand, testing its balance.

“I found a clue about the whereabouts of this blade in my reading last week,” Castiel explained. He pointed to the dragon then traced his finger down the blade. “It was worked by Merlin and still retains some power. You can tell by the way this ancient metal has withstood tarnish for so many centuries.”

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean looked between the blade and the balled up paper, then at Castiel. He didn’t seem capable of saying anything further, so Castiel eventually nodded and excused himself to attend to his car. He tried to ignore the worry itching under his skin which hissed that he had made a misstep somehow.

* * *

Two days later Castiel retreated to the public library feeling tainted by his failures. Nothing seemed to meet the significance of the mix tape. Though he’d seen Dean flipping the knife just yesterday, and the photo resided at his bedside, Castiel had been unable to achieve the sense of fulfillment from any of his attempts to reciprocate. He had thought about it long after everyone had gone to sleep last night, tapping his fingers on the kitchen table as he sought some direction.

At first, he’d thought to follow the last bit of advice from the book, which was to come up with a disproportionately inefficient gift. In movies or books, his next move should be to carpet Dean’s rooms in flowers, buy Dean ostentatious jewelry, or perhaps serenade him from a remote location. The idea of doing that made him shudder, and Castiel was reasonably certain it would be met with the same desperate dislike.

Perhaps gift giving wasn’t a science, but instead a language that he had never acquired. Thinking in terms of language had given him an idea and he had dropped his latest attempt at responding to Dean’s mix tape on Dean’s desk, then headed to the public library to clear his head.

It was at the library, as Castiel sat in a quiet study carrell, that he first heard the Impala’s telltale rumble as it growled through downtown. Dean found him in the back of the library, staring sightlessly at a (fairly humorous) book about the physics of black holes.

“Cas,” Dean said and Castiel looked up. Dean stood for a moment framed in the book stacks. He looked somehow taller than reality in the close, vibrant setting, hands balled into the pockets of his jeans.

After a moment, Castiel stood. “Dean,” he asked. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

Dean took a few deep breaths, pulling his hands out of his pockets and sliding them back in, as though he was nervous. And then, as the silence stretched on between them, he moved. Dean closed in on Castiel and raised his palms to caress his cheeks, thumb stroking lightly as though he anticipated rejection. When Castiel didn’t throw him off (he didn’t dare move) Dean rushed in and kissed him.

It was a quiet kiss, barely a brush on the lips, and over just a moment later. Dean drew away, fear broadcasting so strongly it vibrated the air between them. “Thank you for the letter,” Dean breathed then dropped his hands.

Castiel caught at his hands before they could fall back to his side. He placed them back around himself and brought up his own palms to embrace Dean. He returned the kiss, unwilling to let so much time lapse this time between the delivery of a gift and its reciprocation.

“I tried to return your gesture. With the mix tape,” Castiel added at Dean’s suddenly confused look. “But words seemed easier - more straightforward - in the end.”

Dean grinned like the sun breaking through the clouds. “Words, huh? They are useful. I, uh… I got some of my own for you, I think. Wanna go for a drive?” He pulled back, then held out his hand to Castiel.

Castiel took it, closing his fingers over Dean’s work-worn palm. “Of course, Dean,” he said, and followed him from the library into the golden evening sun.

**Author's Note:**

> Fluff makes for the best gift fics.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/whichstiel) and [Tumblr](http://whichstiel.tumblr.com/) @ whichstiel. You may also like the Supernatural recap and gif blog I co-write/curate, [Shirtless Sammy](https://shirtlesssammy.tumblr.com/).


End file.
